


The Prince and the Dragon-Price

by sunsetmog



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Bards, Dragons, Engineering Social Change, Faux mediaeval, M/M, Peasants, Princes & Princesses, Quest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-07
Updated: 2011-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-21 03:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/pseuds/sunsetmog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Spencer is thoroughly bored of his princely duties, and Brendon is brave and true.</p><p>Spencer rolled his eyes. "Is this a <i>joke</i>?" He tapped the map with one finger. "You're sending me off to deliver a <i>package to a <b>dragon</b></i>?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince and the Dragon-Price

**Author's Note:**

> Fairy-tale AU, for sinuous_curve as part of 2009's drawn_to fic exchange. I hope this is kind of what you were looking for!
> 
> With ridiculous amounts of thanks to reni_days and ashlein for all their support and advice, and to miznarrator for stepping in at the last minute to help out. Thanks to kraken_wakes, too, for helping me come up with a title. ♥
> 
> This contains butchered references to songs from The Slipper and the Rose, which is my favourite seventies soft-focus musical fairy tale.

Spencer was bored. Really ridiculously bored, and kind of uncomfortable, and they were still only serving the first course. The last time he'd checked, his parents had a full eighteen courses planned, and for some reason they expected him to converse with the guests and actually pretend like he cared about all of this stuff. Spencer did _not_ care about any of this stuff. Spencer had precisely no desire at all to ever become king, and he hated all of this protocol and tradition and boring ambassadorial stuff he was expected to do every stupid day just because he was the fucking _prince_.

He tried to catch Ryan's eye, but Ryan was busy with his lute down the other end of the Great Hall, and even though Spencer had been trying for years, he just couldn't get Ryan's attention with the power of his mind alone. He stabbed at his food with his fork and felt grumpy and unfairly put upon. He wished he could sneak out and go hang with his dog in the courtyard, but apparently people tended to notice if the Crown Prince snuck out and started playing catch instead of hanging out with the visiting nobility. He sighed, and motioned Jon over with his knife.

"More wine, please," he said, and Jon nodded politely and filled his glass. As he turned away, Jon winked at him, and Spencer tried to hide his grin. Jon found these occasions just as tedious as Spencer did, Spencer was pretty sure, but at least Jon had something to do that wasn't having to make conversation with these people, who were possibly the dullest nobles Spencer had ever had the misfortune to come across. Right now they were trying to negotiate some kind of trade alliance with Spencer's father, but as they were talking about fucking _grain prices_ , Spencer didn't even bother trying to keep up with the conversation. He wasn't king yet, and he fully intended on avoiding as much of the boring royal duties as he could until he couldn't anymore, and negotiating grain prices was right at the top of the list of things he was definitely not paying attention to until he was king.

Down the other end of the hall, Ryan started singing a sad song about the death of a man's sheep, strumming his lute in a melancholy manner. Spencer glared at him, and Ryan hastily segued into something a little more fitting, an epic ballad about a knight's courtly admiration of a beautiful lady.

Spencer didn't bother trying to hide his frown and stabbed at his food instead.

~*~

Somewhere around the fourteenth course, Spencer stopped trying to talk when he motioned Jon over to fill his wine glass, and just waved his hand instead. His father was looking furious, but Spencer was too drunk to care. He tried to ask the Countess of Sneed if she was wearing a wig, but he was interrupted by Jon accidentally splashing him with the gravy.

In the intervening confusion, Jon hissed, "Spencer, stop it. Do you want your father to send you away again?"

Spencer didn't. Three months staying with his uncle in a monastery in the mountains the previous summer had been enough. "Bring me some water," he said, belligerently, because being shipped off to stay with his uncle, the abbot, was one thing, but sitting through another four courses was another thing entirely.

Ryan strolled past the high table singing a happy little song about a knight who died for love. It was possible that Ryan wasn't the _most_ cheerful bard the court had ever had the pleasure of having in its employ, but he was, at least, not particularly interested in romancing Spencer's sisters, which meant that Spencer's father was more inclined to keep him around than he had been the previous two bards. Spencer's sisters were barely old enough to _marry_ , let alone conduct illicit affairs with heavily romantic court bards. Ryan, at least, was unlikely to set his cap at _them_ , judging by the occasional clinch with various male court attendants Spencer had had the misfortune of interrupting. Of all the things in the kingdom Spencer wanted to avoid, catching his best friend with his hands down someone else's pants rated pretty highly.

"Oh goody," Spencer said loudly, as Jon poured him a glass of water and elbowed him in the side. "They're bringing in a cheese course."

~*~

Spencer's father was _furious_.

" - I have never in all my years been so _ashamed_ ," he told Spencer, pacing up and down in front of the fireplace in his private rooms and keeping Spencer from his bed. "Drunk! Bawdy! An embarrassment!"

"I was _not_ bawdy," Spencer said, grumpily, because his father seemed to be using bawdy as a synonym for 'starting a food fight', which wasn't right at all. "I'm not as drunk as I could be, either."

"Spencer," his mother said, sharply. "You are the _prince_. You should behave as one."

"Someday you will take my place," his father went on.

"I know, I know," Spencer interrupted. "Someday I will be king, someday I will rule this land, someday all this will be mine. I _know_ , okay, and until I am actually king, I'd like to just take it easy, okay? If I'm going to waste my whole life being royal, I may as well enjoy the benefits, you know?"

Spencer thought it was possible his father was actually turning _purple_. "Spencer _James_ -"

"Are you going to send me to stay with my uncle again?" Spencer said, tiredly. "Because, really. Can we just do that part first so I can go to bed?"

The king was actually _purple_. "You will come see me in the morning after breakfast," he said, tightly. "We will discuss your punishment then. Do not be late."

"Awesome," Spencer said, tiredly. He leaned in and kissed his mother on the cheek. "Sleep well, Mother."

"Sleep it off, Spencer," his mother said, with a tired smile.

Spencer had the grace to feel ashamed.

~*~

Ryan was waiting for him back in his rooms.

"Don't you start," Spencer said, once he had the door closed.

Ryan put his hands in the air, in a gesture of surrender. "Did I say anything?" he asked. "No. I just wanted to sing you my new song, that's all."

"If it's called _The Day The Crown Prince Threw A Bread Roll At The Countess Of Sneed_ , I'll have you shot," Spencer warned. "My men are pretty awesome with a bow and arrow."

Ryan flopped back on to the royal sheets and kicked off his boots. "Do you _want_ to get sent back to the monastery?" he said, after a while. "Because you're going a good way to get that."

"You just don't want to have to stay here alone, with only my sisters for company."

"I'd have Jon," Ryan said, without moving. "He's better company than you, anyway."

"I could still have you shot," Spencer warned, pulling out a chair and sinking down into it, stretching out his legs. He brought a bottle of wine out from around the back of his wooden chest, and a dusty glass. "Don't think I won't."

"I believe you," Ryan said, sitting up. "Just. Spence, what are you doing?"

"Having a drink," Spencer said, evenly. His head ached and he was tired and he was so fucking _bored_. So bored it _hurt_. How could anyone actually _want_ to be royal? It was just an endless stream of formal dinners and banquets and behavioural expectations that you couldn't ever deviate from and Spencer didn't want that. He wanted to be _normal_ , like everyone else out there. If he ever had to make small talk with visiting nobles again, it would be too soon for his liking.

"Spencer," he said, rolling his eyes. "Really?"

"No big deal," Spencer lied. "It was a boring dinner, I had too much to drink, whatever. No big deal."

"Yeah," Ryan agreed, "it was boring. I get that. But you were _rude_ , Spence."

"I thought you weren't going to yell at me," Spencer said, exasperatedly. He swirled the wine in the bottom of the glass; it didn't look particularly appetizing, but if he'd learnt one thing it was that going to bed with a headache already starting was a hell of a lot worse than having a drink to make the headache go away.

Ryan sighed.

"It's just," Spencer started. "Why can't I be two people? Like, a royal me, and a, I don't know. A normal me. Out there, doing what everyone else does and not wasting my life sitting through these stupid boring banquets and making conversation with people I can't think of a single thing to say to."

"You're the _prince_ ," Ryan said. "The heir apparent."

"Don't I know it," Spencer said. He tipped the wine back in the bottle and corked it, sliding it back into its hiding place. He knew that Jon knew about it and made the housemaids clean around it, but he never said anything. Jon was good like that. "I'm tired," he said, finally.

Ryan nodded. "Okay," he said, softly. "I'll go find Jon, and send him up."

"Yeah," Spencer said. "Okay."

After the door closed, Spencer leaned his forehead up against the windowpane and waited for Jon to come and help him off with his clothes and into bed.

~*~

"Sire," Jon said, shaking him awake. "Sire, wake up. Spencer, fuck, wake up."

Jon was leaning over the bed. There was a fire burning in the grate but the room was just the wrong side of cold.

"Get up," Jon said, "Fuck, Spence. You've missed breakfast. You're going to be late to meet your father."

"Fuck," Spencer complained, sitting up too quickly. His head hurt. "Why didn't someone wake me up?"

Jon rolled his eyes. "I did, you dumbfuck. You must have gone back to sleep."

Spencer vaguely remembered being shaken awake, and then letting himself fall back asleep.

"You should have made sure I was awake," Spencer rubbed his eyes, and pulled back the covers. "Where are my clothes?"

Jon pointed to the back of the chair. "All ready," he said. "You haven't got time to wash."

Spencer let Jon help him on with his clothes and his boots. He'd had other manservants in his time, but Jon was by far the best. Spencer vaguely considered giving him a title when he was king, for services above and beyond the call of duty. Instead, he let Jon help him on with his shirt and his breeches and his boots, and held his hands out of the way while Jon belted on his sword.

"Here," Jon said, brushing down Spencer's woolen shift with his hand. "Some bread. Should settle your stomach."

"Staying in bed would settle my stomach," Spence grumbled, tearing the bread in two. "Is this all there is?"

Jon rolled his eyes. "Just _go_ , will you? And try not to get banished to the fucking mountains again this time."

"Fuck," Spencer agreed, thinking about all those early morning prayer services he'd deliberately skipped the last time he'd been shipped off to the monastery. "No."

~*~

"No fucking way," Spencer said, a second and a half after his father had outlined his punishment. "No way."

"Yes," his father said. "And you won't speak to me with such language, either."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "Is this a _joke_?" He tapped the map with one finger. "You're sending me off to deliver a package to a _**dragon**_?"

"It is not a joke. It is decidedly unfunny," his mother said, softly, one hand on Spencer's shoulder. "We hoped to shield you from this until you were king, but -"

"But you are proving yourself unworthy," the king said, and even Spencer winced.

"Do we even _have_ dragons?" Spencer asked, uncertainly. "I thought they were extinct?"

"No," his father told him, sitting down. "We have - we have struck a deal.The dragons keep far from our borders on the condition that we liaise with them once every four years, and pay our tithe."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "I don't believe you," he said, because he'd been taught in the schoolroom that dragons were creatures of the past, of myth and legend and lands far from the borders of their kingdom. "You are sending me off on a wild goose chase because I behaved badly."

His father eyed him carefully. "I am your king," he said, quietly, "and I am ordering you to accept this task, in the name of your kingdom, and in the name of your future title as well as your current one. You will travel to the borders of our land and there await the dragon. You will then hand over the tithe, see it accepted, and journey back. The task is easy to understand, and you will undertake it."

"Fine," Spencer said, exasperatedly. "Fine, whatever. Send me wherever, I don't care. Take some package to the border and give it to the dragon, fine. Hand it over, I'll be gone within the hour."

His mother touches his shoulder. "There is something else," she said. "Something you should know."

Spencer sighed. "I knew it," he said. "Go on, Mother. Fill me in."

"The tithe is a sacrifice," she said. "A virgin."

Spencer laughed. "Of course it is," he said. "Because of course we're conducting secret liaisons with dragons every four years and sacrificing virgins and _no one knows about it_. If you're hoping to shock me with how hardcore you are, you can forget it, because -"

"His name is Brendon," his father said. "His name is Brendon, and he'll be brought to meet you at the castle gates at sunrise tomorrow."

Spencer sat down, and swallowed.

"This boy is the tithe," his mother told him. "He is of age, and he is a virgin, which are the conditions the dragon has set."

"And he knows?" Spencer asked. "He knows where he's going?"

"He does," Spencer's father said. "He is a brave boy, and his family will be well rewarded for their sacrifice. We are in their debt."

Spencer shivered. "And I will accompany him," he said, softly, "and see that the dragon accepts our tithe."

"Yes," his mother said. "Yes, you will."

~*~

"Isn't there _anything_?" Spencer asked, desperately, pacing up and down in front of the window in his chamber. "I can't just _give_ someone to a dragon. There must be something we can do, something to stop it."

Ryan's wide-eyed. "No," he said, "I don't think there is. Dragons eat people, right? And I'm pretty sure that one person every four years is better than whole villages at a time."

"You're no help," Spencer snapped. "I am not doing this, it isn't right."

Jon shrugged, stopping folding Spencer's clothes. "Sometimes kings have to make hard decisions," he said. "Maybe this is one of them."

"I'm not king yet," Spencer said, angrily pacing back and forth. "And I'm going to stop this."

"How?" Ryan asked. "Are you going to refuse to go? Because I think they'll just send someone else, and you'll never know how many people we're sacrificing."

Spencer shook his head. "No. My father has entrusted this to me and I'll do it. I just... won't do _it_. I'll find a way."

"To save one kid?" Jon sighed. "Look, Spence, before you get angry with me, remember. I'm not from here. In the north - there are still dragons, sometimes. Or there were. There haven't been attacks in years and maybe this is _why_. Maybe this is a _good_ thing."

Spencer knew it wasn't a good thing. Making deals that involved human lives were never good things, and he wouldn't be a party to it. He _wouldn't_. He felt angry and frustrated, fierce and desperate. "This won't continue," he said, in a low voice, "even if I can't stop it this time, this practice won't continue into my kingship. It _won't_. I won't let it."

"Sire," Jon said, tightly. He bowed his head, and went back to packing Spencer's belongings for the trip.

On the bed, sprawled out across the royal blankets, Ryan watched him, biting his lip. "What if you haven't got a choice?" he asked Spencer, quietly.

"There's always a choice," Spencer said. Down in the courtyard, outside his chamber windows, life was going on as normal for everyone there. None of them had to hand over a person as a sacrifice, and none of them had to live with the consequences of their actions. He shook his head. He wouldn't do it.

~*~

"What are you doing here?" Spencer asked, when he opened the door to his chamber in the morning and found Ryan outside of it, his lute slung over his back and a knapsack in his hand.

"Coming with you," he said, off-handedly, pushing past Spencer and into his rooms. "Is there any breakfast left?"

"Some," Spencer said, pointing at the table. "Help yourself."

"Where's Jon?" Ryan asked, wolfing down the remains of Spencer's porridge and half a bread roll. There was warm ale in a large mug, and Ryan took a gulp before handing it over to Spencer.

"Don't know," Spencer said, shortly. "Attending to his duties, I assume. He'll be back." He swallowed down more of the ale, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Seriously, what _are_ you doing here?"

Ryan shrugged. "Figured you'd need someone to document your journey," he said, and Spencer could tell he was only half joking. "You think you want this chapter missed out from your _Life_?"

Spencer sighed. " _The Life of Spencer V_?" he asked.

"Sure," Ryan said. "I always harbored dreams of being a Chronicler. Anna Komnena, Suger, Gerard of Wales. Ryan of Summerlin."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "Gerard of Wales wrote fucking topographies, you dick. Journeys through Wales and fucking Ireland."

"Whatever," Ryan shrugged. "I'm going to write it down, anyway. You and the dragon and the virgin. Chapter one of _Vita Spencer Regis_."

"Hmm," Spencer said, staring out the window. "I'm pretty sure that's the kind of story that'll last for centuries. Not." He sighed. "Sun's coming up, come on. We don't want to be late."

~*~

Jon was waiting for them by the stables. He was loading up the horses with their packs, and when he saw Ryan he shook his head, but didn't seem surprised. There were four horses.

"Four?" Spencer asked, rolling his shoulders. It figured that Jon knew Ryan was coming with them before he did.

"Four," Jon nodded, patting down Spencer's horse. "You, me, Ryan and -" he stopped. "The tithe."

"His name is Brendon," Spencer said, evenly. The sun was rising in the east, and it was cold and still a little dark. "He is not _the tithe_ or _the sacrifice_ , or anything else other than his _name_."

"It might be easier," Ryan said, haltingly. "Not to get attached."

"Hmmm," Spencer said. "No. He's a person and I'm taking him to his death, so yes, I'll be calling him by his name. And the two of you will too."

Ryan sighed. "Sorry," he said softly, and Jon nodded.

"Me too."

"He's already braver than me," Spencer said. "Show him some fucking respect and call him by his name."

"I didn't mean -" Jon stopped. "I'm sorry, Sire."

Spencer nodded. Across the other side of the courtyard, his father was talking to someone; a boy. It could only be Brendon, and they fell silent as they watched, Jon's hands stilling on Spencer's horse's neck. The king was touching at the boy's shoulder, and his head was bowed as Spencer's father started to talk.

"What do you think he's saying?" Ryan asked, cautiously.

"How his kingdom thanks him," Spencer said, softly. "How his family will be rewarded for his bravery and his trust and his sacrifice. Even though no one in the kingdom shall know of his great sacrifice, they will all thank him in their hearts for his brave actions in these cold days."

Jon touched his elbow. "Some day you will be a great king," he said, equally quietly.

"I won't," Spencer said, shaking his head. "Because I won't let him die, even for the sake of the kingdom. It isn't right."

"Spencer -" Ryan said, worriedly.

"I will die before he does," Spencer said. "Help me on to my horse, Jon."

Jon cupped his hands together and Spencer used them as a step up and into the saddle. He nodded curtly. "Brendon may need your assistance into the saddle, Jon. Be sure to offer it."

Jon nodded, and leaned over to help Ryan onto his horse.

~*~

"Father," Spencer said, pulling a little on his reins.

"Spencer," his father said, nodding. He touched at the boy's elbow; his head was still bowed. "This is Brendon."

Brendon looked up, and met Spencer's gaze, and Spencer was jolted with the realisation that he wasn't that much of a boy after all. He had known that Brendon was of age, that the terms of the tithe were such that their sacrifice had to be, but he hadn't thought much beyond that. Brendon wasn't a boy. He was about Spencer's age, early twenties, straight-backed, dark-eyed and dark-haired. When he met Spencer's gaze, his eyes were bright with fear. "Sire," he said, bowing his head.

"Brendon," Spencer said, in response. His heart beat loudly in his chest. "Good morning." He waved behind him, not knowing what to say to make what he was doing any easier, any less difficult to bear. "Jon will help you onto your horse."

"Your Highness," Brendon said, awkwardly, nodding at Spencer's father, and the king touched at Brendon's shoulder with his palm.

"Your sacrifice is great indeed," the king said, "and we will never forget it."

Brendon's cheeks colored, and he nodded. "Thank you, Sire."

"Thank you," the king said, and then Jon was helping Brendon up into the saddle and Spencer was left staring down at his father. He wanted to say, _I won't do this, you can't make me_ , but Brendon wasn't saying that and this was _his_ death, and his sacrifice, and he was facing it with more bravery than Spencer knew he would do if he was in the same position, so he said nothing, and waited for his father to give them his blessing.

"Safe journey," Spencer's father said, and Spencer nodded jerkily.

He was going to come back with Brendon still alive, or he wasn't going to come back at all.

As they rode out through the archway and over the drawbridge, Spencer glanced back towards the courtyard; they were passing the north tower, where the visiting nobles were staying, still sleeping off the eighteen courses the royal family had bestowed upon them the previous evening. He remembered the frustration and the boredom and the insipid conversation, the desperate desire for the evening to just _end_ , and it seemed a million miles away from the journey he was undertaking now.

He swallowed, and led them out of the castle and onto the road towards the border.

~*~

Brendon rode at Spencer's right hand side, straight backed and silent, staring ahead at the road like it wasn't leading to his death.

Spencer couldn't stop sneaking glances at him, wondering what was going through his mind, what it was that Brendon was thinking that let him approach his sacrifice with such equanimity.

Behind him, Jon was silent, and Ryan sung a little under his breath, traveling songs that Spencer had known since he was a child. He didn't join in.

~*~

They tried to get as many miles between them and the castle as possible before stopping for a rest. It was early afternoon before they stopped by the side of a river, and clambered down off their horses, Jon jumping down first to help Spencer down.

Spencer accepted his assistance automatically, nodding his thanks as he straightened up and stretched, his muscles aching after so long in the saddle.

Ryan scrambled down off his horse ungracefully, already sinking down onto the ground and sprawling across the grass. "I hate riding," he complained.

Spencer rolled his eyes, and watched as Brendon climbed down off his horse without any assistance. He stood at the edge of the clearing and looked out at the river and didn't say anything, his hands down by his sides. His fists clenched and unclenched, and Spencer watched him unhappily, a strange feeling he couldn't put a name to twisting in his belly.

Jon pulled open one of their sacks and came out with lunch; handfuls of bread fresh that morning and cold pies and flasks of ale. He pulled out one of the bedding rolls and laid it out so that Spencer could sit down.

Spencer sank down gratefully, and indicated to Jon that another bedding roll be unpacked, for Brendon to sit on. Ryan was unpacking his lute, stroking his fingers across the strings as he dropped down to the grass, cross-legged, and started to play.

"Won't you join us for lunch?" Spencer said, after a minute.

Brendon startled, and nodded quickly. "Of course, Sire," he said. "I apologise for my rudeness."

"No," Spencer said, "you were not rude. Please sit down and join us." He felt awkward, and out of his depth; Brendon sat still and tall, and didn't touch his bread roll. Spencer's food sat heavy and leaden in his belly, and when he looked down, he didn't feel hungry at all. "You should eat," he said, gently, "it will be a long day's ride."

Brendon started to eat woodenly, methodically. Spencer felt sick. He forced himself to continue eating, even though the atmosphere felt tense and heavy. Ryan, never comfortable with silence, moved away to sit by the water's edge and pick out a melody on his lute. Jon was busy with the horses, tethering them and ensuring that they had enough to eat.

"I hope the pie is to your liking," Spencer said, watching as Brendon broke the pie into pieces on his kerchief, and didn't make a move to eat it. Spencer fought the helpless need to move closer, to stop Brendon playing with his food with a hand to his wrist, to still Brendon's nervous movement. He stayed where he was and didn't move.

"It is, thank you," Brendon said. He still hadn't eaten any of it. He looked up as Jon came to join them, watching as he sat down on the grass by them, food in his lap. "There is room to sit by me," Brendon said, shifting a little.

"I'm fine," Jon said, with a grin. "But thank you."

"No," Brendon said. "Really. I have plenty of room and it's more comfortable than sitting on the grass."

Jon shrugged. "Okay," he said, "if there's room."

"There is," Brendon said, and moved over even further.

Spencer felt strangely ill at ease. He'd never even considered that Jon might be uncomfortable. "That's very kind," he said, after a moment.

"No," Brendon said again, not meeting Spencer's eyes. "That's common courtesy."

Spencer felt even worse. He bundled the remains of his lunch into his food sack and resolved to eat later, when they were back on the road and journeying toward the border.

~*~

The road through the forest wound on and on, the tightly packed trees meaning there was little natural light. They rode on in the shadows, Jon and Ryan out in front, Spencer and Brendon bringing up the rear. Spencer heard snatches of Jon and Ryan's conversation, the comfortable rhythm of their speech only highlighting to Spencer how awkward his and Brendon's stilted interaction was.

"I hope you didn't think me rude, earlier," Spencer said, uncomfortably. "Not offering Jon a seat."

"No," Brendon said, concentrating on the road. "Not rude. Just thoughtless."

Spencer made a startled sound in his throat. No one _dared_ pass comment on his behavior; he was the _Crown Prince_. Even his tutors growing up had only been able to urge him toward good behavior. His parents were the only ones allowed to censure his actions, and only then strictly behind closed doors. "What?" he managed.

Brendon shrugged. "You never even thought," he said, finally. "You just assumed that because he was a servant it was okay for him to sit on the grass instead of on a cushion. Right?"

"What the _fuck_ ," Spencer spluttered. "Jon's my _friend_."

"Jon's your _servant_ ," Brendon said, not looking up. "That's not the same."

"He's my friend," Spencer said, vehemently. So what if he'd never even thought about where Jon was going to sit, it wasn't as if Jon couldn't have asked if he'd wanted to sit somewhere more comfortable. Spencer tried to shake off the increasingly uncomfortable feeling in his belly. "Anyway, what right have you to question my behavior?"

"No right," Brendon said. "But I figured, I'm going to die anyway. It doesn't make much difference if I tell you you're acting like a dick or not."

Spencer winced. "Brendon -" he said, awkwardly.

"It's okay," Brendon said. "I'm sorry for making you feel bad. It's just -" he shrugged again. "Fuck, you've got _everything_. You've got all this _privilege_ and you don't even **know it**."

"I -" Spencer started. He felt red-faced and angry. He didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry," Brendon said, a moment later. His shoulders dropped. "I should never have said anything."

"No," Spencer said, after a minute. "I mean. Really? Do you think I'm thoughtless?"

Brendon tugged on his reins so that his horse avoided a giant pothole in the road. "I guess," he said. "Like, you're the _prince_ , and you could change things, but you _don't_. You just get drunk and go riding a lot."

Spencer rolled his eyes. He _hated_ arguments like this. It wasn't his _fault_ he was the fucking prince. "It's not like I _chose_ to be royal," he said. "I was born like this, it isn't my fault."

Brendon made a sound in his throat that sounded like a laugh. It grated. "With great privilege comes responsibility," he said. "No one _chooses_ the family they're born into. You didn't pick to be royal, and I didn't pick to be born into -" he stopped for a moment, hands tightening on the reins. "You have the power to change things for other people," Brendon said, finally. "To make things better. And you choose not to."

Spencer's skin itched. He didn't know what to say.

"Sorry," Brendon said, haltingly.

"No," Spencer said, automatically. "That's fine."

Brendon was riding straight-backed again, uncomfortable and angular. Spencer wanted to slide his hand into the hollow of Brendon's spine, smooth the tension out of Brendon's skin with his fingertips, but Brendon was going to _die_ , and no amount of touch was going to change that unless Spencer figured out a plan.

The road narrowed, and they could only ride single-file. He let Brendon ride in front of him, and Spencer brought up the rear, Brendon's words repeating over and over in his head.

~*~

"What would you do, then?" Spencer asked, a couple of hours later when the track widened out again, and they could ride two abreast. "If you were me?"

Brendon looked startled. "Sire -"

"Spencer," Spencer told him. "Come on, honestly. What would you do?"

"I'm not the prince," Brendon said, finally. "You are."

"Yes," Spencer agreed, "but you're the only person who's ever dared tell me I'm doing it wrong, so."

Brendon shot him a glance. "Really?"

"What, you think that there's a line of people out there just waiting to tell me where I'm going wrong?"

"Uh," Brendon said. "Yes?"

"Yeah, well." Spencer said, shrugging. "They don't do it to my face. Not like you."

Brendon ducked his head.

Spencer fought the way his stomach flip-flopped at the pink flush high across Brendon's cheeks. He still hadn't come up with a feasible plan which would mean that Brendon wouldn't be sacrificed to the dragon. Noticing Brendon's freckles wasn't getting him any closer to a solution.

"It's just -" Brendon bit his lip. "You let Jon sit beside me while we ate, but then you expected him to help you back on your horse immediately afterwards. You say he's your friend but you don't treat him as such."

"But -"

"And," Brendon continued, without letting Spencer finish. Spencer closed his mouth, surprised. It was rare that people talked over him. "You thought about one man's comfort, but did you even think about the comfort of the rest of the people in your employ, back in the castle?"

Spencer didn't say anything. He hadn't. It hadn't even crossed his mind to consider anyone else. "But they're staff," he said, finally.

Brendon rolled his eyes. "And, believe it or not, people too. I bet most of them can't even read or write."

"What do they need to read or write for?" Spencer said, without thinking. "Our library is already fully-staffed."

"And why the fuck would anyone _choose_ to read or write outside of their position, right?" Brendon said, rolling his eyes again. "Because it's not like you've ever read anything for pleasure, right?"

Brendon shouldn't sound so pleased with himself. "Shut up," Spencer said, finally.

Brendon raised an eyebrow. "Sure," he said.

"Uh," Spencer said. "I didn't mean. Carry on, I meant."

Brendon swallowed a laugh, and for the first time, it didn't sound as if it might be painful. "And how about everyone in the villages? Do you know how many of them can read or write?"

"...No?" Spencer admitted. He felt _stupid_. "Fuck, I should be taking notes."

"Yeah, well," Brendon said. "You should be grateful because you _can_."

Spencer cleared his throat. "Uh -"

"And the trade delegation you've been entertaining in the castle?" Brendon pushed. "Those grain prices _matter_ to people. It's the difference between them being able to feed their families and _not_. Farmers are too poor to eat. Livestock prices are at an all time low and farmers can't even _give_ their animals away, and at the same time they can't afford to grow the food to sustain them. And people come here to negotiate trade prices, and you just get drunk and cause a fucking _riot_."

"It was not a riot," Spencer said, embarrassed. "That's a gross exaggeration."

"A food fight," Brendon said. "I stayed in the castle last night, I know."

"It was not a food fight," Spencer grumbled, red-faced. "It was, like, _one_ cheese ball." And a bread roll, he reminded himself, in embarrassment.

Brendon shrugged. "Whatever it was," he said, "it was all about _you_."

Spencer swallowed. "I never -" he started, and then he remembered his lessons from the schoolroom, _even if you are incorrect, a member of the royal family never admits it. Royalty must appear impervious._ He shut his mouth abruptly. "What would you have me do?" he asked, finally, which was as much of a concession as he could bring himself to make.

Brendon shrugged again. "I'm not an economist," he said. "I'm not anything. I can't tell you. Maybe you should ask someone who knows."

"Like who?" Spencer asked, trying to concentrate on the road in front of them. At this distance from the castle, on the back roads to the border, the roads were in a state of disrepair and the horses were moving slowly, picking their way through the potholes.

Brendon rolled his eyes. "Farmers? Economists? Trade specialists? Seriously, I shouldn't have to answer this for you." His horse stumbled and he lurched forwards, perilously close to falling off and on to the muddy road. Spencer reached for him, cupping his elbow while he regained his balance in the saddle.

"Thank you," Brendon said, softly, and Spencer nodded, swallowing.

His mouth was suddenly dry. He licked at his lips, his breath catching in his throat.

The road narrowed again, forcing them into single file. Spencer let Brendon ride in front of him, closing the distance between them and Ryan and Jon out in front.

~*~

They set up camp by the edge of the forest, in a clearing not far from the road. They made a fire, and Spencer sat close by it as they shared out the food between the four of them. It had been a long day, tiring not just because of the long distance on horseback but because of the enormity of the task in front of them. Spencer's head ached because he was so tired of trying to think it out. Short of fighting the dragon and killing it, Spencer couldn't think of another way to escape handing Brendon over as the tithe. Killing the dragon didn't make any sense either, because there would just be _another_ dragon to take over, and then there would need to be another sacrifice. It didn't help, either, that Brendon was so... _engrossing_ , for want of a better word. Spencer found himself constantly aware of him, of how he was sitting, the set of his shoulders, the way he chewed at his lip when he was trying to disguise how scared he was. Spencer told himself that he was looking out for Brendon, trying to make the burden of his task a little easier, but it was more than that. He couldn't ignore the way his breath caught when Brendon smiled at him, or that funny, new feeling in his belly that was more than just concern for his wellbeing. Spencer knew it was _wrong_ to develop feelings for someone who was supposedly under his care and protection, but he couldn't help it. He tried to keep it quiet, a secret, but when he looked up from his food, Ryan was watching him and his expression was considering.

Spencer remembered what he'd been taught about never giving his feelings away, but Ryan was his _friend_ and he'd known him since he was tiny. Ryan could read him sometimes in a way that no one else could, so Spencer's attempt at keeping a neutral expression probably didn't help much.

Spencer sighed, and pushed the remains of his food around, forcing himself to finish it up, telling himself he'd be grateful of it later. He stared into the fire for a while, hoping for inspiration, and when he looked up again, Ryan was quiet, lying on his side on his bedding roll, a little way from the fire.

Ryan wasn't a natural rider, and whenever he'd accompanied Spencer on journeys before, he'd always complained bitterly about his discomfort and spent a goodly proportion of his time loudly wishing himself back at the castle. He was quiet, this time, quiet and a little withdrawn. Whenever Spencer caught his eye, said, _any ideas?_ with a twitch of his eyebrows, Ryan just shook his head. Jon was little help, either, because all Jon could think of was trying to take the dragon out, which Spencer already knew was only a way of putting off the inevitable.

He sighed, and rubbed at his forehead with his fist. Jon was settling the horses for the night, and Ryan had fallen asleep, his shoulders relaxed in sleep. Brendon was standing at the edge of the clearing, staring out into the forest.

"You'll get cold," Spencer said, after a while. Brendon turned around and blinked.

"So will Jon," he said, and Spencer colored. He hadn't even thought about Jon, still talking to the horses in a low voice, making sure they were okay.

Brendon rolled his eyes, and came to sit down by the fire. "You have to start noticing shit," he said. "It's like... the stuff you don't notice? That's the important stuff. That's the stuff you should be working on."

"I'll try and remember," Spencer said, looking over at Jon, who was finishing up and tugging his own bedroll off out of his bag.

"Good," Brendon said, ducking his head. He poked at the fire with a stick, and Spencer thought about his own skills with a sword, and whether it would be enough to fight the dragon on his own. He didn't want Brendon to die.

"Hey," Jon said, coming over. "You got a minute?"

Spencer nodded, and followed Jon over to the horses. "You okay?" he asked, under his breath.

"Yeah," Jon said, softly. "You?"

Spencer sighed. "I liked it better when I was grumpy about the cheese course," he said, and then he shook his head. "I don't mean that."

"I know," Jon said. "You're doing good, Spence."

"I'm not," Spencer said, shaking his head. "I never think about whether you're cold or not, or whether you've got somewhere comfortable to sit. You should fucking hate me, I'm pretty sure."

"I don't," Jon said. "So you've got other things to think about, whatever. I'm okay."

"Yeah," Spencer said, stroking his horse's nose. Lily whinnied, and Spencer leant in and pressed his cheek to her neck. "That's not good enough. I'm not good enough."

"You shouldn't beat yourself up so much," Jon said. "You're not a total asshole or anything."

Spencer managed a smile. "You're too nice to me. You should tell me when I'm fucking up, okay?"

"Brendon's doing a pretty good job of that so far," Jon told him.

Spencer couldn't smile at that. "Yeah, what if I can't save him? Then what?"

Jon leaned over and cupped Spencer's elbow. "You're a good person, Spence."

"Not good enough," Spencer said, grimly, and shook his head. "You should get some sleep," he said. "I've got Lily. It's okay."

Jon waited a minute before nodding. "Okay," he said, "but don't stay awake too long. We've got a long day tomorrow."

Spencer stroked Lily's nose again and didn't say anything.

~*~

Spencer couldn't sleep. Across the other side of the fire Ryan lay on his side, snoring gently, and next to him, Jon was asleep, his face smudged with ash from the fire. Brendon wasn't asleep either. Spencer could tell by the rigid line to his shoulders, the restless way he kept turning over and over. Spencer sighed, and tried to close his eyes. He had what might be the very early beginnings of an idea, but he needed to think more, weigh it up in his head. He needed to _sleep_.

Next to him, Brendon sat up, and shuffled out of his blankets. He clambered slowly to his feet, and then leaned over and pulled Ryan's blankets up and over his shoulders, covering him up.

"Brendon?" Spencer asked, sleepily, sitting up.

"He looked cold," Brendon said, awkwardly. "He's facing away from the fire. He was going to get cold."

Spencer swallowed. He wanted to cry. "Brendon -" he said.

"He looked cold," Brendon repeated, as if Spencer was going to question it.

"You see stuff I never see," Spencer managed.

Brendon rolled his eyes. "It's a blanket, it's nothing."

"It's not nothing," Spencer said, shifting so he could reach over and touch Brendon's elbow. "Fuck."

"It's nothing," Brendon repeated, but he didn't move away. He stayed still, staring down at Spencer's hand, face pale even in the firelight.

"It isn't," Spencer shook his head. He didn't want to let go. He wanted to stay close to Brendon, but it wasn't fair, he couldn't. Brendon deserved better than this. He forced a smile, and dropped his hand. "I don't see the stuff you do. I wish I did."

Brendon shrugged, and wrapped his blanket around his shoulders, shifting closer to the fire, curling into himself. "You just have to look more," he said, softly. "There's a lot to see if you look around you."

Spencer swallowed, and shivered. He didn't know what to say.

"Here," Brendon said, and leaned over so he could grab the corner of Spencer's blanket. "You should keep warm too."

Spencer nodded, and wrapped the blanket tighter around him. "Why are you here?" he asked, softly, because he couldn't help himself. "How come it has to be you?"

"It has to be someone," Brendon told him. He wrapped his arms around his knees, drawing them up closer to his chest. "Why not me?"

"Because -" Spencer trailed off. "You've got such a lot to offer," he said, finally. "You tell me where I'm going wrong. You think about everything. You think there wouldn't be a position at court for someone like you?"

The fire crackled and popped, and for a moment the flames turned blue as a damp, green log started to burn. Above them the trees rustled in the breeze, and Brendon sighed. He rested his cheek against his knee, and Spencer watched him, his skin reflecting the flicker of the flames.

"No," he said. "There isn't. I'm a _peasant_ ," he went on, and Spencer winced. "My parents are farmers, and my brothers are farmers, and my sisters married farmers, and we _farm_. You don't let farmers in positions at court."

It was true. Spencer hurt. "Brendon -"

"I'm a fucking awful farmer," Brendon said, softly. "I mean, _terrible_. No one wants to marry me, and that's okay, too, because it wasn't as if I'd even met anyone I _wanted_ to marry, if they'd have had me. No one wants to marry someone who can't earn their keep," he explained. "I'm a drain," he went on, and Spencer felt sad inside. "This way I bring my family respect, and enough money to pay for grain, and our crops. This is what I can do for them," he finished, fiercely.

Spencer reached out without thinking, and circled Brendon's wrist with his fingers. "You're worth so much more than this," he said. "You're smart, and you know shit, and you could _be_ someone."

Brendon shrugged, but didn't pull away from Spencer's hand. He shook his head. "Social order," he said. "Feudalism. It's all socially conditioning. Pre-defining who you are and what you can be. You can't change who you are."

Spencer didn't understand. His brow furrowed.

"Just like you can't be anything other than the prince," Brendon explained. "I can't ever be anything other than a farmer. And I fucking _hate_ farming."

"How come you know so much?" Spencer asked, quietly.

"For a farmer, you mean?" Brendon shook his head. "There was a traveling preacher, when I was growing up. He used to come by a couple of times a year, used to speak to the village in the square. My parents used to let me hang out with him, and he taught me stuff. How to read, whatever. I went with him a couple of times. Village to village."

Spencer nodded. "I'm glad you had him," he said, finally, because Brendon had given up _everything_ to be here now, any chance of a future, and he was brave and strong and true and everything Spencer wanted to be.

Brendon's hands had started to shake, and Spencer slipped his hand into Brendon's, trying to still him.

Brendon looked at him with wild eyes. "I don't want to die," he admitted, breathlessly. "Fuck, I don't want to die."

"No," Spencer said, fiercely, "no." He wrapped his arms around Brendon's neck, and Brendon started to cry, helpless sobs into Spencer's shoulder.

He kept saying _sorry_ , over and over into Spencer's skin, and Spencer hated himself, and everything around him. There wasn't anything he could say, so he held on tight and let Brendon shake against him, quiet and desperate.

It wasn't enough.

~*~

By the time the sun rose, Spencer knew what he had to do.

~*~  
~*~

Brendon looked tired and worn out, the shadows under his eyes huge and dark. He didn't look at Spencer much as they packed up camp, standing away from the others as they bundled their bedding back up into rolls, easy to pack onto the horses' backs. They'd eaten in silence, Ryan watching them both with a quiet consideration that made Spencer feel uncomfortable. As they went to climb back onto their horses, Jon touched his hand to the small of Spencer's back.

Spencer, glad of the comfort, stopped for a moment, and tried for a smile. "Thanks," he said, quietly, and Jon nodded, offering him a hand up and onto his horse.

~*~

"What are you going to do when you're king?" Brendon asked, mid-way through the morning, when Jon and Ryan were far enough in front that Brendon could speak without worry of being overheard.

"Brendon -"

"No, seriously," Brendon said, ducking to avoid an overhanging branch as he struggled to stay riding next to Spencer on the rough road that led to the border. "Like, I'm not going to be around to see it, so. You should tell me what you're going to do."

Spencer swallowed, and blinked a few times. "I hadn't thought," he said, softly. Brendon had to lean in to hear, and Spencer cleared his throat. "I never thought. Before now, I mean. Before you."

Brendon tried for a smile. "My legacy," he said. "My parents will be proud. You should tell them."

"I will," Spencer said. He wouldn't. Brendon could tell them himself.

Brendon's horse stumbled again, and Lily's footing slipped as she moved out of the way of Brendon's horse, spooked. Spencer leaned over and rubbed Lily's neck, calming her.

"You have all these ideas," Spencer said, as Lily righted herself, "ones that could change things for everyone. Reading and writing, and helping farmers, and I hadn't even thought of any of that stuff."

Brendon shrugged, and tightened his grip on his reins as they picked their way down the hillside, always closer to the border. "I've been thinking about it a long time," Brendon said.

"And I should have been," Spencer said. He felt bad. "I think I've let people down."

Brendon sighed. "You're going to change, though, right? That's not letting people down. That's doing the right thing."

Spencer hummed. He wasn't going to let people down again.

~*~

They approached the clearing by the border where they were supposed to meet the dragon in the middle of the afternoon. Brendon sat tall and straight-backed in the saddle, white-faced and silent. Spencer chewed at his lip until it bled, and stared straight ahead. He wasn't sure he'd ever been this scared about anything in his whole life. On either side of them rode Jon and Ryan, quiet and nervous. Spencer would have given anything so that they didn't have to witness this, but he was glad that they were here, by his side. By Brendon's side.

The dragon was waiting for them.

~*~

The dragon was dark green and kind of magnificent, if Spencer had been taking any notice of anything other than his racing heart. The dragon stood on his hind legs, as tall as the stable buildings back at the castle. Lily shied at the sight of him, and the other horses whinnied, trying to step back and out of the clearing, away from the dragon. They all clutched on to their reins, trying to keep them still and quiet.

The horses wouldn't advance, and Spencer sighed.

"Wait here," Spencer said, "And I'll go greet him."

When Jon made to get off his horse to help Spencer down, Spencer shook his head.

"Stay seated, Jon," he said, carefully, even though he could barely hear anything over the beating of his heart. He glanced at Ryan, and then at Brendon, stock still and quivering. "I won't be a minute."

He walked the twelve or so steps into the centre of the clearing, and bowed his head. "I am Prince Spencer, of Summerlin," Spencer said, and he was proud of how his voice didn't shake. All those years of royal training had finally come in useful. "I bid you good day."

The dragon inclined his head. "I am Exocer," he said, and his voice was deep and low, a rumble that echoed through the trees. "And I greet you, Prince Spencer."

Spencer nodded, and swallowed.

"You have brought the tithe?" Exocer asked.

"I have," Spencer said, and he willed his hands not to curl into fists. His palms sweated, and his stomach rolled. He'd never been so scared in his whole life.

The dragon glanced back at the others, at Ryan and Jon and Brendon. He sniffed. "Present him, if you will."

Behind him, Spencer could hear Brendon beginning to climb down off his horse. He turned, and shook his head, _no_. Brendon, puzzled, stayed where he was. Ryan's eyes widened.

Spencer turned back around to face the dragon. "It is I," he said, in a clear voice, loud enough to carry back to the others. To his friends, to Brendon. "I am your tithe."

The dragon inclined his head. "I accept," he said, and Spencer began to shake as Brendon, Ryan and Jon started to protest behind him.

It wasn't a spur of the moment decision; Spencer had stayed up all night thinking it over. He was - unfortunately - still a virgin, and supposed to stay one until his wedding night. He was of age, and in sound mind. He had been a poor prince and an even poorer subject of the king; he wasn't kind, or thoughtful, or courteous like Brendon. He didn't look around him and see all the things he could make better in the kingdom; he'd failed his people and he'd failed Brendon. Brendon could be more of an asset to the royal court than Spencer ever could be, and he couldn't see a better way of saving Brendon's life than substituting it for his own. His sister would make a good queen.

Spencer willed himself not to look back. "I am ready," he said, and his words caught in his throat. He'd never be ready.

"You may bring your horse," Exocer told him, "for we have a long journey ahead of us, and you will be glad of her."

"Okay," Spencer said. He turned around and tilted his chin up, as brave as he could ever be. He forced himself to put one foot in front of the other foot so he could cross the clearing, back to his friends, only staying on his feet by willing himself to think of nothing but getting back to his horse.

"What were you thinking," Ryan said, urgently, grabbing at his sleeve, "you fucking _idiot_ , what were you _thinking_. Go back and tell him you made a mistake, that it can't be you. Oh fuck, what were you thinking?"

Spencer swallowed. His mouth was dry, and he couldn't look at Brendon. "I was thinking that a man from my kingdom should never be offered up as a sacrifice, or as a tithe," he said, softly. "I was thinking that I should never ask a subject of mine to do something I wouldn't be willing to do myself. That Brendon's smart, and thoughtful, and someone who could make a difference. It shouldn't end here for him."

"And you're none of those things? It shouldn't be either of you." Ryan hissed. "Fuck. Spencer."

"You mean, _your Highness_ ," Spencer managed, sharply. His heart hurt. "I am your prince, and I trust you to remember that."

"You're going to _die_ ," Ryan said, his voice catching. "He's going to kill you, and you're going to _let him_. What sort of Prince does that make you?"

"The right kind," Jon said, suddenly, and Spencer had to bite his lip to keep himself from crying.

"Jon, I -" Spencer couldn't talk. He stumbled over his words, and clenched his fists.

"You would have made a great king," Jon said, and Spencer could see the muscle pounding in his jaw. "And I am proud to have served you."

"You will tell my father," Spencer managed. "You will tell my mother that I love her, and my sisters -"

"I will tell them," Jon said.

"And you will make my father give Brendon a position at court?"

"I can't promise that," Jon said. "But I will tell him what you said. And so will Ryan."

Ryan made a strangled, desperate noise in his throat. "Spencer -"

"Please," Spencer begged. "Brendon has so much to offer the court. My mother - she will listen if my father will not. Promise me, Ryan. Please."

Ryan dragged in a breath. "Yeah," he managed. "I promise."

"Good." Spencer nodded, his hands shaking. "Be happy," he said, quickly, staring down at the ground. "Don't mourn me."

Jon's voice cracked, and he tugged Spencer into his arms, wrapping him into a hug. "I could never be prouder of you than I am right now," he managed, and Spencer's voice caught as he tried to say something - _anything_ \- in return. He pulled away, and tugged Ryan into a hug.

He couldn't say anything, and then he had to let go. He squared his shoulders as he met Brendon's eyes.

"You should not have done this," Brendon said, desperately. "You should not have. I _offered myself_."

"And I couldn't let you do that," Spencer said, softly. "You are not a soldier, Brendon. You shouldn't be dying in the name of my father. It's not right. You shouldn't die like this."

"And you should?" Brendon managed. "Fuck -" He drew in a breath. "I will never forget this," he said. "I will make sure that everyone in the kingdom knows of your bravery and your courage."

"You changed me," Spencer tried to smile, but he just couldn't. His throat felt tight. "These couple of days. You showed me what I could be. Who I wanted to be."

A muscle pulsed in Brendon's jaw but he didn't say anything. Behind him, Spencer heard the dragon readying for departure. It was time to go. Spencer's stomach ached and his hands shook, and he knew that he shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself. He stepped forward and pressed his mouth to Brendon's for one long, desperate second, Brendon's lips chapped and cold against his. He tasted sweet, and Spencer didn't want to leave him.

He had to go. "You showed me who I could be," he said again, and he touched at Brendon's jaw with his palm. "I thank you for that."

Brendon swallowed, wide-eyed and desperate.

Spencer dropped his hand, and ducked his head. He stepped back and let Jon help him up and on to his horse. Ryan leaned in and kissed Spencer's hand.

"Peace be with you," Ryan said, softly, and Spencer nodded jerkily.

He dug his heels in and Lily set off across the clearing to where the dragon was waiting. He didn't look back.

~*~

They left the clearing, Spencer riding beside the dragon, Exocer leading him by the reins. He didn't know where they were going, but it was out of his kingdom and across the border into the lands beyond their walls.

Spencer concentrated on his breathing, in and out, one breath after another. Panicking wasn't going to make this any easier, and Spencer wanted to be able to face his death with courage.

They didn't speak, and they rode until dusk was falling, the sun a hazy shadow in the west.

"We will stop," Exocer said, once the sun was in its final descent behind the hills. "We will make camp here."

Spencer blinked. He had been expecting his death with every passing hour, and the idea of making camp for the night was strangely upsetting.

"I thought -" Spencer said, without thinking.

Exocer lifted his head. "You thought?" he questioned.

"That you would kill me before the night was out," Spencer said, not ducking his gaze.

"The night is not yet out," Exocer countered.

Spencer didn't say anything. He looked around instead. This land was much like his own; he had not traveled far from his own borders before, except on state visits as a child, and never via the back roads, like this. The trees and the shrubs were much the same as those back home - they were only a few hours from the borders of his own kingdom, after all - but there were other, different ones, too. Ones with larger, darker green leaves that grew much closer to the ground, and taller trees where the branches didn't even start until way above the dragon's head. He swallowed, and wondered if he was to die in this place, if this clearing was to be his last resting place. No one would think to look for him here; his body would remain here, alone, forever.

As a small child he had been shown the Royal Crypt; it had been part of the royal education, a trip to see the resting place of his forefathers, the kings and queens of yesteryear. His tutor had stood him in front of a marble sarcophagus and pointed at the inscription - it had said Spencer James, and underneath that, his birth date. It had been a sobering thought even as a child, that whatever he did or didn't do, however he did it or didn't do it, that that as yet unmarked sarcophagus was destined to be his final resting place. Until now; Spencer wondered whether they would remove it, or leave it empty as a memorial to him, his body destined to lie here forever, but his soul resting there with his family.

He hoped his mother wouldn't be too upset, that his parents would understand why he'd chosen to do this the way that he had.

The knot in his stomach grew, and tightened, his stomach aching. He missed Ryan, and Jon, and he wished he'd been able to say a proper farewell to his parents, and to his sisters, and even to his dog. He hoped that his dog wouldn't pine too much, and wonder why Spencer didn't come home. He'd had him since he was a puppy.

He missed Brendon, who he'd only known a couple of days, but who had changed everything.

Spencer didn't know whether he should have kissed him or not; he didn't know and he didn't much care. It only mattered that he had, that he'd been able to close the distance between the two of them and press his mouth to Brendon's. He'd been worried that he'd been mixing up what felt like the beginnings of love, with the desperate fear he'd felt for Brendon's survival, but now he was here, away from his friends, he could acknowledge the attraction. He could acknowledge the way he'd wanted to touch him, and be with him, and kiss him. He wished he'd had the opportunity to do it again, but he hadn't, and now he was going to die after only ever kissing Brendon once. He sighed, and tried to concentrate on the way the dragon was breathing life into the campfire.

"I do not wish you to be cold," Exocer said, politely, sitting back on his hind legs. "Please tell me if you are, and I will make the fire bigger."

"I am fine," Spencer told him, equally politely. Being warm was the least of his worries. He'd been shivering ever since they'd left the others, a desperate energy pulsing just beneath his skin. A last-ditch attempt at survival.

"Still," Exocer said. "I would be grateful if you would tell me if you are not."

Spencer nodded. He didn't know why he was being so polite to a creature that was going to kill him and eat him, but Exocer was being courteous to him, so it only seemed fair.

He stared into the fire and remembered the last campfire they'd had, the previous night, Brendon's hand in his and Spencer already plotting to offer himself instead of Brendon. After Brendon had fallen asleep, Spencer had stolen into Ryan's knapsack to find his ink and his paper. He'd written letters to his father, and to his mother, and to his sisters, and then he'd hidden them deep in Jon's bags, knowing that they wouldn't be found until after Spencer had offered himself as the tithe. There was one to Brendon, too, helplessly scrawled with the last of the ink, a recommendation to the court that he be employed as an advisor. Brendon deserved that chance at least.

He hadn't thought to transfer his bedding roll from Jon's horse to his own before he'd left with Exocer, and now he was sitting on the cold, damp ground. He was uncomfortable and chilled through, but he couldn't bring himself to ask the dragon to build up the fire.

"You are not warm enough," the dragon observed, a while later. "You should have said."

"I am fine," Spencer lied, but his teeth were chattering. Exocer blew on the campfire, and the fire jumped to life again. Spencer moved closer, and warmed his hands. "Thank you," he said, finally.

"I am pleased to be of service," Exocer said, inclining his head.

Spencer wanted to laugh. He could feel it bubbling in his chest, a hysterical dam bursting somewhere deep inside of him. "Why haven't you killed me yet?" he said, unable to stop himself. "Why are you keeping me alive?"

Exocer blinked, slowly. "Because my family are hungry," he said, nodding his head. "Because _I_ am hungry. We do not have enough to eat."

"You are, uh." Spencer wrapped his arms around his knees, and pressed even closer to the fire, his face too hot but cold right down to his bones. "You're taking me to your family?"

"To share, yes," Exocer said.

"But you're _dragons_ ," Spencer said, incredulously. "How can you be hungry?"

Exocer breathed in and out loudly for a moment, and Spencer wondered if that might be dragon laughter. "We are banished from everywhere," Exocer told him, after a while. "We are creatures of destruction and death. Nobody wants us and so we make our homes in the mountains, where there is not enough food and we are forced to make arrangements like this one, just to survive."

"I didn't know," Spencer said, after a while. "I never thought you could be going hungry."

"Nobody thinks that," Exocer said, his voice low and gruff. "We are exiled beyond the borders of all lands," he went on, "and so we are forever hungry, and our children go hungry, and we die, hungry."

"You eat _people_ ," Spencer said, unable to help himself. "You murder my subjects." You make to murder _me_ , he thought.

"We starve," Exocer told him. "We starve, and it hurts, and we're desperate. My children are desperate. What would you have us do?"

"Not eat my people would be good," Spencer said, indignantly. He paused for a moment. "I don't know, can't you eat anything else? Something that isn't people?"

The dragon takes a long breath. "We eat livestock, too, but that is not permitted, either, to take livestock."

"I don't know," Spencer said, rolling his eyes. "Have you ever thought about, you know, _not_ stealing it?"

Exocer turned to look at him, his eyes wide and dark. "We have no other option," he said. "For you will not give them to us."

Spencer huffed a breath. "There's this thing," he said, tiredly. "It's called trade. We give you something you want, and in return, you give us something _we_ want. It's a whole new thing."

"An exchange," Exocer said, slowly. "And you would exchange livestock for - something? With us?"

"Sure," Spencer said, and there was a tiny, tiny glimmer of hope starting to flicker in his belly. "We could make a trade agreement," he said, trying not to sound too hopeful. "Our farmers could exchange livestock with you for, uh. What can you give us in return?"

"Fire," the dragon said. "We can give you fire."

"We already have that," Spencer said, carefully. "Do you have anything else?"

The dragon lifted its foot; around the ankle was a fine silver chain, and on the chain a ruby, dripping red and bright as anything. "We have stones," the dragon said. "Many, many stones. Jewels."

Spencer swallowed. "We would exchange livestock for those jewels," he said, and he couldn't stop himself. He asked, "I could arrange that for you. We could work out terms. A contract." He thought about what Brendon had said, about how farmers couldn't get a price for their livestock, but how grain and crops were too expensive to buy. "If you would permit me, we could work out something. Your family wouldn't have to starve." _And maybe I wouldn't have to die_ , he thought, trying not to let the flicker of hope in his chest get out of control. The dragon hadn't agreed, after all.

"My family would not starve," the dragon said, slowly. "They would not die hungry."

"No," Spencer said. "They would not. But you could not kill my people anymore, either. No more human tithes."

"If we had food enough," Exocer said, "we would have no need of human tithes. My family would not be hungry."

"No," Spencer said again. "Would you agree? To meet and discuss terms?"

"We are meeting now," Exocer said. "I do not wish to wait to work out the details. We should do it here."

Spencer swallowed. "And then," he said carefully, "you would let me go? Back to my people so I could put the treaty in motion? The terms of the tithe are now dissolved?"

Exocer tipped his head to one side. "I have not decided yet," he said. "But I think so. If the terms are amenable to me."

Spencer let out a long breath. He would see his family again, his parents and his sisters and his dog and Jon and Ryan. Brendon. "Okay," he said, "let's talk terms."

~*~

Exocer walked him back to the border of Summerlin in the morning, before it was fully light.

"I am pleased to have met you, Prince Spencer," Exocer told him, inclining his head.

"And I you," Spencer said, politely.

"We shall meet here in one month," the dragon went on, "and you will bring livestock."

"Sheep," Spencer said. "Fifty sheep."

"And we will bring jewels," Exocer said. He held out his front leg, the one with the ruby dangling from the chain. "The terms of the tithe are now dissolved, and the new terms in place."

Spencer bowed his head. "I wish you peace and good will," he said, politely, and Exocer nodded.

"One month," he said.

"One month," Spencer agreed, and he climbed back on to his tired horse and set off back into Summerlin, his hands shaking as he crossed the border back into his own lands.

~*~

Spencer had barely slept in days and Lily wasn't much better. Lily had slept, at least, but Spencer knew that she never woke up as refreshed as she did when she was back at home in the stable, and her days had been long and arduous. Spencer's eye was twitching and he needed to sleep, but he also had to catch up with the others and let them know he was okay before they got back to the castle. He wanted to go home and kiss his mother and tell his father that he was going to do better; he wanted to tell Jon he'd be a worthy king for him, and reassure Ryan that things were going to be okay. He wanted to see Brendon and make sure he got a position at court worthy of his courage and his bravery. He wanted to kiss him again.

He wanted to do many, many things. He wanted to increase literacy levels at court, and instigate learning centers in the villages, schools and tutors. He wanted to liaise with the farmers and work out the details of the trade agreement with Exocer and the dragons, and he wanted to meet his people and find out what he needed to do to make things better.

He _wanted_. He was exhausted but enthused, excitement threading through his veins as he and Lily made their way through the forest and toward home.

~*~

He caught up with them late in the afternoon. He heard the sound of their horses' hooves before he saw them; the low murmur of their voices around the bend in the road. He tried to urge Lily on faster, but she was too tired, and Spencer could barely work up the energy to stroke at her neck and tell her she was almost there, that she was the best horse ever.

As he rounded the corner he saw them moving slowly down the road in front of him, Jon leading his horse by hand, Ryan's head bowed and his shoulders tight. When they heard Lily's hooves, they were suddenly alert and on guard, Jon and Ryan's hands automatically going to their belts, to their weapons, Brendon standing fierce and desperate in between them. They looked exhausted and hollow-eyed, and Spencer was pretty sure that if they had had to fight for their lives, they couldn't have put up much of a fight.

"It's okay," Spencer said, trying to put them at their ease, but he was so tired his words were slurring a little, his tongue thick. Exhaustion rolled over him in waves, the relief of seeing them again secondary even to the tiredness overtaking him. "There's no fight. It's just me."

" _Spencer_ ," Ryan managed, and he'd slid off his horse and closed the distance between them in seconds. He took the reins off Spencer, staring up at him, his eyes wide. He shook his head, and grabbed at Spencer's hand. "Fuck. You're alive. How did you escape? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Spencer said, so tired he felt ill. Ryan squeezed his hand, and Spencer said it again. "I'm fine."

"Where's the dragon?" Jon asked anxiously, coming over and glancing worriedly over Spencer's shoulder. He took Lily's reins from Ryan and stroked at her nose, reassuring her as he stared down the road behind Spencer. "Do we need to run?"

"No," Spencer said, shaking his head. "It's okay. He let me go."

Jon didn't look any less worried.

"I don't get it," Ryan said, looking equally concerned.

Spencer just shook his head again, too tired to talk. His eyelid flickered.

"Are you okay, Sire?" Jon asked, reaching out and touching at Spencer's knee. Spencer nodded, and let Jon help him down from his horse. He stumbled a little as he hit the ground, and he wrapped an arm around Lily's neck. _We're okay_ , he thought, softly. He patted her sleepily, and she whinnied.

"Just tired," he managed. "So fucking tired. Glad to see you guys."

A little of the tension in Jon's forehead eased. He nodded, and he reached out to touch Spencer again, but Brendon pushed past him, nudging him out of the way. He looked furious. "Don't you ever fucking do that to me again, okay?" he said, fiercely. "Fuck, I thought you were _dead_. If I say I'm going to sacrifice myself, okay, I'm going to sacrifice myself. I don't need you to fucking go in my place."

"Brendon -" Spencer managed, still clinging to Lily's neck. He felt drunk, or maybe he was just fucking _hungry_. He can't remember when he last had something to drink, either. "Hey."

Brendon looked vaguely confused. "Hey," he said, his face softening.

"Good to see you," Spencer said, and tried not to look at Brendon's mouth and remember what it felt like to taste him, if only for a moment. He licked his lips.

"And you," Brendon said, slowly, his brow furrowing. "Are you okay?"

"Just tired," Spencer said, again, and it was just the tiredness that was causing his legs to shake and his hands to tremble. It wasn't anything else, not the fear or the relief, or Brendon here in front of him again, Ryan touching his elbow and Jon tending to Lily. It was just the bone-crushing weariness that seeped through his skin, nothing more.

His hands started to shake for real.

"Okay," Jon said, taking charge. He slipped his arm around Spencer's shoulders, and handed Lily's reins to Brendon. "Okay, so we're making camp here, and you can get some sleep." Spencer made a noise of protest, but Jon shook his head. "We'll keep guard," he told him, but Spencer hadn't been worried about that. He wanted his bed, and his blankets, and a fire in the grate. He wanted Brendon curled up beside him, but he was pretty sure he was already dreaming if that was the kind of thing he was wishing for. "Ryan?"

Ryan nodded, and slipped under Spencer's other shoulder, wrapping his arm around Spencer's back.

"I can walk," Spencer protested, but he could barely keep his eyes open. He waited patiently for them to lay out his bedding roll, and then he lay down and curled up under the blankets, falling asleep before they'd even got the fire built.

~*~

When he woke, it was dark, and Jon was sitting by him, warming his hands in the firelight. His sword lay across his knees and he was quiet, watchful.

"Jon?" Spencer asked, sleepily. He tried to sit up, but his head felt muzzy and thick. He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"Sire," Jon said, nodding. "You feeling better now? Spence?"

"Yeah," Spencer said. His stomach rolled; his stomach ached. "Is there any food? Where are the others?"

"Checking on the horses," Jon said, nodding down the bank to where the horses were tethered. It was too dark to make much out, but he could hear the soft murmur of their voices, and the shadows moving in the darkness, Lily's familiar whinny. "There's some bread, and some pie," Jon unwrapped the cloth, and passed it over to Spencer. "Here, eat as much as you want."

"Is there enough for the morning?" Spencer asked, half way through a bite. "Has everyone else eaten?"

"Everyone's eaten enough," Jon said, carefully, which Spencer took to mean _no_. He divided the food up into four and pushed the cloth away once he'd eaten his share. He was still hungry but they'd be back at the castle tomorrow; there would be food enough for all, there.

Jon rolled his eyes when he saw. "We're trying to look after you," he said.

"Yeah, well," Spencer said. "I'm trying to look after you, too."

"Okay," Jon said, and then he touched at Spencer's shoulder with his hand, and squeezed. "So glad you're back," he said, softly, and Spencer let Jon pull him into a hug. He hid his face in Jon's neck for a moment and breathed.

"Yeah," he said. "Me too."

~*~

Ryan came to sit by him after he'd finished feeding the horses. He held his sword close too, like Jon had, and Spencer blinked and realized that they were _guarding_ him, protecting him. Ryan's jaw was set tight, tired and fierce, and Spencer swallowed and shifted closer.

"I thought you didn't like animals," Spencer said, after a while, because Ryan was looking anywhere but at him, concentrating on the trees and the horses and the road beyond them. He kept a hand on the hilt of his sword even as he leaned in and warmed himself by the fire; Spencer tried to sit up so that Ryan had more room, but Ryan shook his head and shuffled back so he was leaning against Spencer's leg.

"They're okay," Ryan said, shrugging. "They're better when they're not huge."

"You're such a fucking idiot," Spencer said, trying for a smile.

Ryan let out a breath. It was almost like a laugh. "Dogs are okay," he said. "They're better than horses. I like your dog."

"Yeah," Spencer said, softly. "I miss her."

"Yeah, well," Ryan said. "You're the fucking idiot who gave up the chance to say goodbye to her."

"Ryan -"

"You're more of an idiot than I am," Ryan said, softly. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. He wasn't the worst swordsman Spencer had ever seen; Ryan could pretty much hold his own out in the castle grounds on the odd time they'd practiced together, but Spencer knew he'd never once raised his sword outside of a practice ring. Spencer wasn't exactly sure what good Ryan would be in an actual fight. "What the fuck did you think you were doing?"

"The right thing," Spencer said, tiredly. He wanted to sleep again. He was back with his people and the tithe was fixed and no one was being fucking sacrificed, which counted as several wins in Spencer's book at least. "And it all worked out in the end, right?"

"You're here," Ryan said, "and you're still alive, but I have no idea how, or why. You want to fill us in anytime soon? Should we be hiding from a rampaging dragon? Dragons plural?"

Spencer blinked. He'd forgotten that they didn't know. He imagined them making camp around him, letting him sleep but in fear of dragons arriving any moment, on their guard and ready to fight. He put a hand on Ryan's arm. "It's okay," he said, softly. "We're safe. You can put the sword down."

Ryan took in a deep breath. "We didn't know," he said, his voice shaking. "You didn't say. I didn't want to just - get you back and then lose you all over again."

"It's okay," Spencer said again. "I'm sorry."

Ryan shook his head. "Don't be sorry," he said, softly. "I just didn't want you to die."

"Yeah," Spencer said. "Me neither."

Ryan rolled his shoulders. "Glad you're back," he said. He didn't loosen his grip on his sword, but his shoulders relaxed a little. "Are you going to tell me how you ended up back here, then?"

Spencer nodded, swallowing. He bit his lip, watching as Jon and Brendon came over and sat down beside the fire. Brendon didn't look at him, just ducking his head and reaching for his knapsack. "Would you believe," Spencer said, leaning into Ryan's arm, "that I negotiated a trade treaty securing export prices for our livestock farmers?"

Brendon - his head bent over his knapsack, concentrating on something that wasn't Spencer - jerked. "What?" he said.

"Turns out the dragons are starving," Spencer said. "And the baby dragons are dying -"

Ryan blinked. "What the actual fuck."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "This is a touching and definitive story of my greatness," he said, trying to lighten the mood, "so shouldn't you be making notes or something? I thought you were going to write my biography."

Ryan poked him in the leg. "Just because you're royal and kind of awesome and back from the dead, don't go thinking you can take advantage of our good natures. Just because we're pleased to see you -"

"Ecstatic," Jon said, dryly, but his smile was warm, huddled over the campfire.

"Just because we're pleased to see you," Ryan repeated, "don't go thinking that I'm going to over emphasize your greatness in my _Life of Spencer V_."

Spencer tried for a laugh. It was all a little too close for him to feel comfortable joking about how close he'd come to dying, but he was so pleased that he was back that he was willing to try, at least. "I don't know," he said, ruefully. "I think I was pretty great."

"You were pretty great," Brendon said, quietly. He didn't look up, and Spencer struggled to hear him over the crackle of the fire. "You really fucking were."

Spencer flushed, and he ducked his head. "Thanks," he said, softly, and Ryan bumped his knee with his elbow.

"You did good," Ryan said, and Spencer nudged him back, but didn't say anything.

They shared the last of the stale bread, and wrapped themselves up in their bedding rolls, and tried to sleep.

~*~

When Spencer woke up, it was still dark. Brendon was kneeling over him, touching at his shoulder with his palm.

"What -" Spencer managed shakily, pulling himself up and onto his elbows and looking around. The trees rustled in the darkness, but Jon and Ryan didn't move, still asleep in the dying remains of the firelight. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, hush," Brendon said, softly. "I just wanted -" He stopped, and sat back on the ground next to Spencer's bedding roll. He brought his knees up to his chin. He kept his hand on Spencer's shoulder, thumb brushing Spencer's bare neck. "I never said thank you," he said, finally. "You were going to fucking die for me, and I never said thank you."

"You don't need to -" Spencer started. His heart was beating loud and heavy in his chest; he tried to shake off sleep, weariness still seeping through his skin. Brendon was close and warm and Spencer couldn't help it, he really couldn't. What he felt for Brendon was new and warm and thrilling.

"I do," Brendon insisted. "You offered yourself in my place. You knew what it would entail and you did it anyway."

"I wouldn't have let you die," Spencer said. His voice rasped a little; the night was cold and his mouth was dry. "I wasn't going to let you die like that. It wasn't right."

"It wasn't right for you to die like that, either," Brendon said.

Spencer didn't know what to say. He remembered what it had felt like to kiss Brendon, to close the distance between them and press his mouth to Brendon's. He licked his lips. "I'd do it again," he said, finally, and forced himself not to look at Brendon's mouth.

"Don't," Brendon said, softly. "You've done enough for me." He stroked at Spencer's throat with his thumb. "Your treaty will help my parents," he said, after a moment.

Spencer's breath caught in his throat. "I hoped it would."

"My parents, and my brothers and my sisters. My family, Sire."

"Spencer," Spencer said, hoarsely. He brought his hand up, and circled his fingers around Brendon's wrist. "I want you to call me Spencer."

Brendon didn't move. His thumb stayed pressed against Spencer's skin. "Spencer," he said softly, "Thank you."

Spencer wanted to say, _anytime_ , but he couldn't. "It was an honor," he said, instead. "An honor and a privilege."

Brendon breathed in raggedly, blinking quickly. "You kissed me," he said, changing the subject.

"Yeah," Spencer agreed, and his thumb traced the vein in the underside of Brendon's wrist. "I did."

He reached up and cupped Brendon's cheek in his palm, and Brendon shifted a little, so that he could press a kiss to Spencer's palm.

Spencer's whole body tingled. "Brendon," he managed, so quietly it was barely a breath.

And Brendon leaned in and touched at Spencer's mouth with his own. Spencer let his mouth fall open a little and then Brendon was kissing him, sliding his tongue along Spencer's mouth, pressing closer. Spencer groaned, and slid his hands up Brendon's arms, trying to hold onto him and keep him close.

"I'm not sure that this is protocoligorically correct," Brendon said, a minute later, his mouth pressed to Spencer's cheek.

"Well," Spencer said, stroking at the underside of Brendon's jaw, "we all know that good form must never suffer from neglect."

Brendon smiled against Spencer's skin. "I mean it," he said. "This isn't right."

"It feels right," Spencer said urgently. He kissed Brendon again, and another time. "Right? It feels good."

"Of course it does," Brendon protested. "You're fucking -, you're _you_." He slid his hands under Spencer's blankets, burrowing deep into the warmth of Spencer's tunic.

"That makes no sense," Spencer said, but he pulled the blankets apart so that Brendon could crawl inside, pressing himself to Spencer's side.

"It does to me," Brendon said, softly.

Spencer wrapped his arms around Brendon's shoulders. He felt nervous and scared, but he was tired and sleepy and Brendon was warm and Spencer had thought that he was never going to see him again.

"You could probably have me shot, or beheaded for this," Brendon said, and his mouth was a breath away from Spencer's skin.

Spencer shivered in anticipation. "I think we've already established that you dying isn't on my list of things I'm going to let happen."

Brendon huffed a breath, almost a laugh. "I'm pretty sure that's a licence to do whatever the fuck I want to."

Spencer pressed his fingertips into Brendon's skin. "Yeah," he said. "I guess."

Brendon wrapped an arm around Spencer's chest, and Spencer stifled a yawn. "You should sleep," Brendon said.

Spencer had never fallen asleep beside someone before, and certainly never someone pressed so closely to him. He was tired, though, and Brendon's breath was a steady rhythm against his skin, so he tightened his grip on Brendon's shoulders and let his eyes close. He was pretty sure he felt Brendon's lips against his skin as he fell asleep.

~*~

The next time he woke up, it was morning, and Jon and Ryan were already awake and up and about, dampening down the fire and tending to the horses. Brendon was still asleep, wrapped around Spencer's side with his hand in Spencer's hair, and Spencer swallowed and had to stop himself from touching his mouth to Brendon's.

Ryan looked at him, one eyebrow raised, and Spencer flushed pink.

"We should be on our way soon," Jon said, carefully, and Spencer nodded. He wondered it might look like, their prince wrapped up close to a _peasant_ , but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was going to get Brendon a place at court and he would go on to do great things. Brendon was going to be amazing, he just knew.

Spencer waited until Jon had turned back towards the horses, and he made a face at Ryan, who wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes.

"Fine," Ryan mouthed, and disappeared after Jon.

Spencer shifted, and brushed Brendon's hair away from his forehead. "Hey," he said, softly, and Brendon made a sound in his throat and sleepily opened his eyes. "Morning."

"Morning," Brendon said, his voice husky. His eyes widened as he remembered where he was, and where he was sleeping, and for a moment he tried to pull away, but Spencer wouldn't let him.

"How'd you sleep?" Spencer asked.

"Good," Brendon said, a little awkwardly. "Yeah. Good."

"Me too," Spencer said. He bit his lip. "I'm going to recommend you to the King," he said, after a moment. "For a position at court."

Brendon swallowed. "I'm a _farmer_ ," he said. "It's nice of you and all, but you don't allow farmers at court."

"Yeah," Spencer said. "We do now."

"I'm kind of sure you can't make that decision _here_ , Spencer."

Spencer rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure I'm going to be king," he said. "This isn't exactly a democracy."

"You're not king yet," Brendon grumbled.

"Who's your Crown Prince, baby?" Spencer said, lightly.

Brendon choked. "Fuck, you didn't just -"

"I did," Spencer grinned. "Come on, who's your Crown Prince?"

"You are," Brendon said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah," Spencer said, softly. He wanted to touch Brendon's face, cup his cheek in his palm and press his mouth to Brendon's. He didn't, because what happened in the middle of the night might not be be what could happen again in the cold light of day. "Give me a chance to try and make things right," he said, instead. "I'm going to make it so you can get a position at court on your own merit," he went on. "Not because of where you were born and who your parents were."

Brendon let out a breath. "You'll do good," he said, after a while.

"Yeah," Spencer said. "If I've got you to tell me when I'm fucking up."

"Come on, guys," Ryan complained, from over by the horses. "Seriously, you can't do this later? Private time is only okay if it doesn't mean I have to hang out with the horses."

"And _me_ ," Jon told him.

"Yeah," Ryan said. "I guess."

Spencer laughed, and Brendon buried his face in Spencer's neck.

"Come on," Spencer said, and they pulled back the blankets and clambered to their feet, Brendon putting out a hand to help Spencer up. Spencer kept a hold of him for a few moments too long, and Brendon smiled.

~*~

Jon rode on ahead to alert the castle to Spencer's return, and when Spencer rode through the archway into the courtyard, his parents were waiting on the steps to the great hall.

His father lifted a hand to wave, but when he saw Brendon riding beside Spencer, he stilled.

"Spencer," he said, as soon as they were in earshot. "What is this?"

"Father," Spencer said, nodding. The courtyard was quiet, and mainly deserted, but there were a few people around the peripheries, a couple of guards on the steps beside his parents. He could see Jon coming back from the direction of the stables, hurrying over to help Spencer down from his horse, a couple of stablehands behind him, coming to take the horses back to the stables for a well-earned rest.

Spencer climbed down from his horse without assistance, and then offered a hand to Brendon, to help him down from his.

Brendon stared at him with wide eyes, but Spencer didn't drop his hand. His fingers trembled a little, but he waited.

After a moment, Brendon swallowed, hard, and took Spencer's hand, and allowed Spencer to help him down from his horse.

"Spencer?" His father said again.

"I have returned," Spencer said, without turning around. He swallowed, and managed to smile at Brendon. Behind them, Ryan slid gracelessly off his horse, and started leading Lily and the other two horses towards Jon and the stablehands. "We have returned."

"I can see that," the king said. "What happened?"

"Dear," Spencer's mother said, softly, her hand on the king's sleeve. "Let's not do this here. Let's go inside."

The king nodded, jerkily. He turned and led the way inside, Spencer's mother following, and Brendon and Spencer bringing up the rear. Spencer tangled his fingers in Brendon's for a moment, squeezing, and then he let go and followed his parents down the hallway towards their chambers.

~*~

"So you say the dragons will trade for livestock?" The king asked, a while later.

Spencer had stood in front of his parents and carefully explained the events of the last few days, trying to sidestep as much as possible the part where he sacrificed himself instead of Brendon. Brendon stood behind him, as was correct, but Spencer missed having him by his side.

"They will, father," Spencer said. "The first trade is due twenty-nine days from now. We will take the treaty to the dragons as I have laid it before you, and they will put their mark to it."

The king inclined his head. "You have done well, Spencer." He looked beyond Spencer, towards Brendon. "And I am glad to see you again, Brendon. Your bravery in offering yourself will not be forgotten, even now, and neither will your family be forgotten."

Brendon nodded. "Yes, your highness."

"About Brendon," Spencer said. "I want to recommend him for a position at court."

His father looked startled. "Spencer -"

"It's wrong, Father," Spencer said, interrupting him. "Achievement should be down to merit, and merit alone, and Brendon's brave and he's taught me all this stuff, and how to be a better person and he knows all about how to make things better in the kingdom, and he bugs me when I don't notice what's going on around me. He can advise us. It shouldn't matter that he was born a farmer. He hates farming, and he'd be pretty awesome at court."

"Spencer," The king said, carefully. He glanced back towards Brendon, and then back to Spencer.

"Father, it's wrong," Spencer said. "The way we do things, it's wrong and when I'm king this isn't how it's going to be anymore. I'm going to change things so that everyone the kingdom can aspire to work wherever they wish." He squared his shoulders. "You should change this," he said. "Your kingdom won't thank you for you holding out on them. When I'm king," he reiterated, "this isn't how it's going to be any longer." His heartbeat was loud in his chest and he could barely hear over the rushing in his ears.

His mother curled her hand around his father's elbow. "Spencer," she said, softly, and she looked up and met his father's eyes. "That's an argument you don't get to make very often. You may be the Crown Prince, but -"

The king covered her hand with his own, and inclined his head.

"But this time we happen to agree," he said, quietly, and Spencer swallowed. Brendon gasped, and Spencer darted a look across at him.

"And I want to open _schools_ ," Spencer said, impulsively, "and make sure that everyone in the castle can read and write, too."

His parents, to their credit, didn't give away _just_ how surprised they were, but Spencer had known them a long time, and could read his parents pretty well.

"Also," Spencer said, because he was on a roll. "There's one more thing."

His father raised an eyebrow. "Oh yes?" he said.

Spencer took a deep breath, and reached for Brendon's hand. He twined his fingers with Brendon's, and looked up to meet his parents' gaze. "Yeah," he said, and squeezed Brendon's hand.

~*~

Epilogue

Spencer hated being fitted for new clothes. It seemed like an endless round of being stuck with pins and coming back for alterations that made his wedding outfit look pretty much exactly the same as it had done before he'd spent another million years being pricked with pins, and frankly, he couldn't think of a worse way to spend his time. He'd stood on a stool in the tailor's chambers for another endless number of hours and finally, they were done and he was free.

He stopped himself from rolling his eyes as the tailor and his assistants took another interminable amount of time to help him off with his wedding clothes and back into his normal ones, but was careful to thank them for all their hard work. He even managed to wait until he was out in the hallway before sighing in relief as he set off towards Brendon's chambers at high speed.

"Thank fuck," he said, bursting in without knocking. "It's over."

Brendon - who was leaning over his desk with a whole pile of papers spread out in front of him - looked up and grinned. "You are such a complainer," he said. "Think how many people would kill to have new clothes like yours. Shut up."

"Shut up yourself," Spencer said, complacently. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the corner of Brendon's mouth. "I have many crosses to bear, and spending hours having pins stuck in me is one of them. Allow me the opportunity of complaining wholeheartedly about it, at least."

Brendon rolled his eyes, and tangled his fingers in Spencer's hair for a moment, tugging him closer and pressing a sweeping kiss to his mouth.

"Just think," Spencer said, bumping his hip against Brendon's. "Soon you'll be a member of the royal family too, and you'll have to suffer the indignity of being pricked and pinned for fucking hours just for some velvet monstrosity you'll only wear the once."

"I will not wear it the once," Brendon said. "I will wear my wedding clothes all the time. You won't be able to get them off me."

"I will," Spencer said decisively. Brendon curled into his side for a moment, and Spencer tugged him closer. "Not long now, huh?"

"Not long, no."

Spencer and Brendon's betrothal was the longest in history, Spencer was pretty sure. Even his sister had managed to organise her wedding quicker than Brendon and Spencer, and she hadn't even met her husband-to-be until after Spencer had returned from sacrificing himself to the dragon. Apparently the wedding of the Crown Prince and his consort was a pretty big deal for the kingdom, whereas Jacqui's wedding was mostly being organised by the family of her husband to be, and the pretty ridiculously large wedding would take place in her new kingdom. The banquet the following day was to be Jacqui's farewell dinner, before they set off on the long journey across the mountains to where Jacqui would be getting married.

"What are you working on?" Spencer asked, hooking his chin over Brendon's shoulder. He wrapped an arm around Brendon's waist.

"Amendments to the livestock treaty with the dragons," Brendon said.

"Amendments?" Spencer complained. "This was all ratified fucking months ago."

Brendon shrugged. "Circumstances change," he said. "Prices change. Whatever. This is a good treaty. The amendments will just make it stronger."

"I know," Spencer said, proudly. "I arranged it in the first place, I don't know if anyone told you."

"What, really?" Brendon laughed, and elbowed Spencer in the stomach. "Why don't you go bug Jon and Ryan until I'm finished up?"

"They're practicing," Spencer said. "I imagine."

"Who knew bards could work in pairs?" Brendon said, rolling his eyes.

"Who knew Jon wanted to play the lute," Spencer said. He tugged at his clothes uncomfortably. "I miss him, this new guy isn't half as good as Jon was."

"At getting you dressed," Brendon reminded him. "I'm pretty sure you're capable of putting your clothes on without assistance."

"Shut up," Spencer said. "So I'm learning stuff late, whatever."

Brendon just grinned. "Seriously, you don't have any really important royal stuff you need to be doing for, say, the next half hour while I finish up?"

"You're just trying to get rid of me," Spencer kissed Brendon's neck. "Don't think I can't spot a subterfuge when I'm presented with one."

Spencer had a list about as long as his arm of things he should be doing, but none of them appealed quite so much as hanging with Brendon. In the past few months they'd gotten closer and closer, and Brendon had justified his position at court a hundred times over. Spencer had thrown himself into his schools project with gusto, but their combined successes had drawbacks; the first being the amount of time they got to spend together. Spencer couldn't wait until they were married, at least then they could stop sneaking around the hallways late at night and using Jon and Ryan as decoys to sneak into each other's rooms after dark.

"Come back in half an hour," Brendon said, grinning. "Go do something important for a while."

"When we're married," Spencer said, "I will make you hang out with me all the fucking time."

"Sure you will," Brendon said, but he'd stopped paying attention to Spencer, and was already lost in the papers in front of him again.

Spencer rolled his eyes, and went to the fire to light a taper. He lit the candles and the lamps around Brendon's desk, and pressed a kiss to Brendon's temple. "You'll strain your eyes," he said, "working in the dark."

"Thanks," Brendon said, distractedly, and Spencer smiled.

"I'll see you later," he said, sliding his hand into the small of Brendon's back. He could go do his own paperwork for half an hour.

"Yeah," Brendon said, and he looked up and met Spencer's eyes. "Yeah, you will."

[END]


End file.
